by Andi Van
“Hmm. I believe you are correct.” Yldost grinned at Zaree and Jorget, their long, sharp teeth much more intimidating at this size than when Yldost was still smaller than Rin. “Would you like to see?”
Zaree nodded, though she wasn’t sure she actually meant it. If Yldost was this big in their natural form, what other form could they possibly have?
Yldost grinned even wider, spread their wings again and seemed to fold into themself. It was much less difficult to watch this time. Partially because Zaree knew what to expect, but also because this particular transformation seemed to be simpler somehow. It was certainly smoother, at any rate, and it wasn’t long before the wings were folded again.
Except that, when they were folded, they were folded against the back of what appeared to be a human.
Yldost turned, and they got a better look at the dragon in this completely unexpected form. Their hair was long, longer even than Tasis’s, and was a blend of the blue, white, and gray of Yldost’s feathers. Their eyes were the same jewellike blue, and they sparkled with amusement. Their obvious surprise clearly pleased Yldost a great deal. But staring at the dragon’s human face, Zaree started to realize why Vashk had once told her that they suited his sibling more than any of the other pronouns might have. Tasis may have been more than a little androgynous, but if you spent any amount of time with him, his gender was easy enough to discern. That was not the case with Yldost. There was nothing that might signify one thing or another. Even the robes that currently enveloped them—and Zaree wasn’t sure she wanted to know where the garment had come from—gave away nothing.
“What are you?” Jorget asked, and Zaree let out a groan as she rubbed her face in exasperation.
Yldost tilted their head as they always did when they were considering something. “I do not understand the question. I am me.”
“No, I mean—”
“He’s trying to figure out if you’re male or female,” Zaree interrupted, leveling the glare at a now-blushing Jorget.
Yldost tilted their head the other direction, eyes narrowed in confused contemplation. “Why does it matter? I am me and you are you. Neither of us is planning to mate with the other, so it’s not as if you need to be concerned over physical compatibility.”
Jorget spluttered a clearly embarrassed and unintelligible response. Zaree, on the other hand, doubled over in laughter. Maybe that would be enough to remind Jorget in the future that it was rude to try to place people in neat little metaphorical boxes.
Yldost turned to their brother. “I do not understand.”
“Humans have grown a little… strange… since the old days,” Vashk replied. “They place importance on things that had once held no meaning beyond who could bear young. Pay no mind.”
Yldost gave him a slight nod, then turned their head to eye Zaree, who was laughing so hard that all she could do was gasp for air in between guffaws and hold on to her aching ribs. “Are you going to be all right?”
She waved a hand at them, trying to dismiss the dragon’s concern. She managed to stop laughing long enough to take in a large gulp of air, only to wheeze out, “Ow,” before bursting into laughter again.
“She’ll be fine,” Vashk assured his sibling. He looked over at Jorget, who was still quite red in the face, and also silent for once. “Him, I’m not so sure. I always assumed the only thing that would silence him was death.”
The observation must have hit a nerve, because Jorget glared at them as he crossed his arms in front of him in a display of irritation. “I’m not that bad,” he huffed. “And quit making fun of me. There are still things I’m wrapping my brain around. But I’m getting better.”
“He is,” Zaree managed to gasp out. Speaking was a monumental effort, but it needed to be said. Jorget had indeed improved leaps and bounds from the moment he’d mistaken Tasis for a girl, and Zaree felt it was important to let him know. He’d certainly made no issue of her own situation once she’d told him about it, and that was more than she could say about a lot of people, some who’d known her from birth. “Humans are very…. We’re taught that there are two kinds of people. There is no in-between in our society, and when someone tries to prove otherwise, it causes confusion or even fear. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, people have a tendency to fear what they do not understand.”
“I don’t,” Jorget muttered under his breath.
“Really?” Zaree asked, arching one delicate eyebrow. “Because I got the distinct impression from Emlynn that you were terrified of the giants when you first met them.”
“That’s—”
“So were we,” Zaree admitted. “Tasis and I were both quite sure Lifit was going to eat us.” She smiled when Jorget let out a snort. “It seems ridiculous now, doesn’t it? But we were faced with someone who made us no taller than children when we stood next to him. And yet here we are, fast friends and strong allies. My point is that people can learn not to fear.”
“Dragons have a third sex,” Vashk explained, gesturing at Yldost with a nod. “Females are rare and tend to be limited to our mother, her sister, and her daughters, though there are exceptions to that. There is only one of her daughters on each world our mother creates. Most of the other dragons are male or like Yldost, something not one or the other. And it is just as rude to speculate on their anatomy as it is to ponder Zaree’s.”
“Probably almost as dangerous too,” Jorget said as he looked at Zaree from the corner of his eyes.
“Almost,” Vashk agreed with a chuckle.
“But wait,” Zaree said, ignoring the verbal jab. “If there’s only one daughter per world, what happens to the other females? And if you have only one sister here, where is she?”
Vashk stared at her in silence for so long that she wondered if she’d insulted him. She’d begun to open her mouth to apologize when Vashk finally answered. “It’s time I told you,” he said, sounding absolutely gutted at the thought, though Zaree couldn’t understand why. Unless of course his sister was….
Oh Maker. His sister was probably dead. “Vashk, you don’t have to—”
“I do, actually,” he interrupted. “It’s time. But Triv needs to be here for this. This is a story for her as well.” The dragon sank into the water and let out a roar that vibrated clear through the dock they were standing on and into their very bones. When the howling ended, Vashk’s great head surfaced again. “That should get her attention.”
“You think?” Jorget asked dryly. “I’m fairly well sure Falcon heard you in that mountain of hers.”
Zaree elbowed him in the ribs and focused on Vashk. “Speaking of Triv, I’ve been having odd dreams. Mostly about her. Do you know who Trekelm is?”
“Trekelm?” The question did not come from Vashk. Instead, it came from the mischievous mermaid who popped up out of the water next to him. “How do you know that name? He’s been dead for…. Well, long before the king attacked.”
“Hello, Triv,” Zaree said in greeting as the rest of the merfolk began to join them in the cavern. “I was just telling Vashk that I’ve been having odd dreams about you. This morning I dreamed of Corrin and someone named Trekelm finding you washed up on the beach.”
“And you dreamed with enough detail to learn Trekelm’s name?” Triv asked, her face screwing up in confusion. “Have you heard it elsewhere, perhaps?”
“No, definitely not,” Zaree answered with a shake of her head. “Then he was a real person?”
Corrin, who’d joined his wife, let out a chuckle. “He was most certainly real. He was the leader of the guild before Triv. He was my master.” He frowned speculatively, his mouth twisting a little as he thought. “What exactly did you dream?”
“Well, it was weird,” Zaree said, taking a seat on the dock. Yldost sidled up to her, sat, and leaned their head against her shoulder before extending one wing behind her back as if in a protective embrace. It settled some of her unease, and almost automatically, she stroked at the feathers of the wingtip that landed in her lap. The dr
agon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr, but Zaree tried to keep her focus on the topic at hand. “It was as if I were in the room watching events, much like it would be if I attended a performance.” Her eyes narrowed as she tried to remember, and she pointed at Corrin. “You said something about feeling as if the world was screaming.”
Corrin shuddered. “I remember that quite clearly. It wasn’t something I’m likely to forget in another thousand years.”
“You remember saying it?” Triv asked.
“I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it wouldn’t surprise me,” Corrin admitted. “I remember the feeling, though. And that’s exactly what it was like. I remember running to the beach with Trekelm and finding a slip of a redheaded young woman washed up on the shore. We managed to get you to tell us your name, I think.”
“No,” Zaree said, a bad feeling building in her gut. “I don’t think she did. If that dream is an accurate memory, what she said was three distinct words: Triv int aie.”
Yldost’s head lifted, the feathers between Zaree’s fingers bristling slightly, and they turned their attention to Vashk. Zaree noticed the almost imperceptible nod he gave his sibling, and Yldost turned their attention back to her. “What did you hear her say, exactly?” they pressed, trying to sound casual. The question held a sense of urgency, though, and Zaree’s disquiet grew.
“Onai,” she said. “Triv int aie. Gisik.” She frowned when Yldost released a distressed hiss. “But I don’t understand. She didn’t know about Gisik.”
Triv shook her head. “No, I learned about him at the same time as the rest of you. And I remember Yldost using the word onai when he first woke. But what does it mean?”
“It’s not a word,” Yldost said sadly. “It’s a name. The true name of our sister.”
“And your sister died.” Zaree turned her head just enough to look at Yldost’s face so she could see their expression. The pain stabbed at her. “You didn’t know?”
“No,” the dragon answered with a shake of their head. “Not until Vashk told me, but we didn’t have time for me to get the details. Things were still… unclear… for me.” Zaree felt them tremble, and they shook their head. “I dislike the reminder of being imprisoned. Let us proceed with the story.”
“Our sister was murdered by Gisik,” Vashk explained, his voice mirroring the pain Zaree had seen in Yldost’s expression. “I was there, and I tried to stop it.”
“Okay, wait a second,” Zaree said, rubbing at her face. The entire situation was far too confusing for her liking. “Didn’t Gisik die in the battle with Yldost?”
“Yes,” Vashk confirmed. “At the end of the war, Gisik died. But as I’ve mentioned before, Gisik doesn’t stay dead. He can’t.”
“Yldost touched on that previously,” Jorget said. “And I understand it’s the truth, but can I just note that I find the whole thing weird? Death is death.”
“Oh really?” Triv asked dryly, making Corrin laugh.
“There is no such thing as happiness without sadness,” Yldost said softly. “There is no such thing as light without darkness.” They paused, giving the assembled humans a long look before speaking again. “And there can be no order without chaos. If there was not an opposite to each of those things, there is no measure by which to compare. If you have never been sad, how do you know if you’re happy?”
“What you’re saying is that he’s a… necessary evil?” Zaree asked. It made a weird sort of sense, but it was a lot to wrap her brain around.
“Our uncle wasn’t always evil,” Vashk said. “Bitter, yes, but he’s become twisted. So what Jorget said is true. I am indeed saying it is literally impossible for Gisik’s death to be permanent. He has to exist. Chaos has to counter order. There has to be balance.”
“That….” Zaree paused and rubbed at her temples. “Okay, that’s going to give me a headache if I dwell on it too long right now. Let’s go back to the war.”
“That far back?” Vashk asked, one of his eye ridges raising in such a human gesture that it made Zaree grin. “Well, I suppose knowing the history would help. As you’ve heard before, Gisik was—”
An ear-piercing scream of absolute agony ripped through the air. Even as far away as it was, it made Zaree’s flesh crawl, and she leaped to her feet.
“Was that Tasis?” Jorget asked.
“Yes.” Without saying another word, she ran for the guild’s entrance.
Chapter 3
“DO YOU think we’re dead?”
Tasis hadn’t spoken the fear before, but the longer he and Rin were trapped, the less afraid he was of the concept. At least if they were dead, they had each other for company. It was the room he could have done without. It was an odd space, with no windows or doors. It held only a chair and an incomprehensible aura of both existing and not at the same time. Incomprehensible because clearly, if they could see it, it must exist. It was a thing they could both touch, proof it was really there, and they were really trapped. But maybe things were different after death visited you.
Except that there had been no visit, per se. They had performed the spell to protect the isle and he’d predictably passed out after. That was getting old, really. He needed that to stop. Well, unless they were dead, in which case it was a moot point. When he’d come to—if you could call it that—he’d been in that there/not-there room, with K’yerin, who’d said he’d been curled up in bed with Tasis.
I seriously doubt we’re dead, Rin said calmly. I imagine death would involve more than what appears to be a jail cell.
“Maybe, but I’m pretty sure you’ve never been dead before, either,” Tasis pointed out.
Call it wishful thinking, Rin replied, grooming a paw. Hope springs eternal, and all that.
“If only there was at least a window,” Tasis said with a sigh as he slumped against the wall behind him. He’d forgone the chair, as the thing looked entirely too uncomfortable for his liking, but sitting on the floor wasn’t much better. He wished he could sleep through the unpleasantness, but he didn’t seem to require sleep. Or food. Or any other thing that had previously been necessary. “If there were a window, perhaps we’d at least be able to see outside and get an idea of how much time has passed. Do you have any clue how long we’ve been here?”
None, Rin said, replying exactly as Tasis had expected. And being able to see outside may not help at any rate. On the astral plane, time fluctuates. The same may be true here. You might think a week has gone by, but you’ve instead seen seven sunrises in the space of a few hours. I think I mentioned that to you briefly once. That’s why there’s no way of really knowing exactly how old I am.
Tasis nodded, more to himself than in response to Rin. They had indeed talked about that very thing, but his attention had drifted from the conversation to the one other item in the room. “What do you think would happen if I threw that chair at a wall?”
If this were our reality, the chair would break, Rin said. But we can’t be sure what would happen here. I advise against trying it.
“I can’t just sit here,” Tasis protested. “Every spell we’ve tried has failed, so magic clearly doesn’t work here.”
For us, the cat pointed out as he moved from grooming his paw to grooming his tail. That doesn’t mean others here can’t use it. Wherever “here” is.
“So you think we should just keep sitting around?”
Rin gave him such a withering look that Tasis felt himself turn red. Of course not, Rin said, his ears back in irritation. I merely expect us to go about this intelligently. If something happens to you, what do you think will happen to me? In case you’ve forgotten, we’re bonded. If you need proof of that, why else would I be here with you?
“I suppose that’s true,” Tasis said as he looked around the room. As they had been the first dozen times he’d looked, the walls were smooth. Too smooth to be anything like normal masonry. It was more the texture of the marble in the halls of the guild. And it wasn’t like he had anything sharp to gouge a
t the surface anyway. Just the chair. He stood and paced the small area, reaching out to drag a hand along the wall as he moved. There were no imperfections to be found. He’d expected that, but it didn’t make him any happier than it had the first time he tried that. “Maybe I’m going about this all wrong,” he mused.
What do you mean? Rin asked curiously, all previous irritation seeming to vanish.
“Maybe it’s not the walls,” Tasis said, dropping gracefully to his knees to look closely at the floor. “Maybe I should be looking for a less obvious answer. I doubt it’s the floor, because that’s just as smooth. And the ceiling is too high for me to do anything about that without my magic. The only other thing I can think….” He turned to look again at the one item in the room. The chair, rickety and simple, made of battered wood and likely to give anyone who sat on it splinters, was the only thing out of place in this room aside from them. The empty room, two living creatures, and a chair better used as kindling. “That’s it.”
What’s it? Rin asked, his whiskers twitching with confusion. Tasis, what are you thinking?
“I just happened to think that this chair was useless except for anything other than kindling,” Tasis explained as he picked up the chair and inspected it. “What do you think would happen if I set it on fire?”
I think it would mean you’d better get used to sitting on the floor full-time, Rin remarked dryly. There’s no one here to see a signal fire but us.
“No,” Tasis agreed. “There’s not. But why, in this perfect, pristine room, is there a broken-down old chair? This is the only thing that doesn’t fit.” He hefted the chair a little higher and swung it with more force than he thought he was capable of. The dry wood struck the wall, and Tasis immediately landed on the floor, screaming at the pain that echoed in his head. He was most certainly not dead, not if he could feel that kind of pain, but it made him wish for a moment that he was. If he’d had anything in his stomach, he was sure the agony would have brought it all up, but all he could do was keep screaming. When the torture finally subsided enough that he was lucid again, he realized he wasn’t the only one screaming, and he forced his vision to clear enough to see Rin writhing in pain. He made himself crawl across the room, half dragging himself until he reached his familiar and was able to wrap himself protectively around the wailing animal.